Suit Tie Boutonniere
by Pyroluminescence
Summary: He took himself to a place where none of this was happening, where he was still safe and happy. Maybe he was seeing Red. Grabbing him and kissing him like he'd never kissed him before. GreenxRed, language, violence, implied sexual situations


This is a fic I wrote for a friend of mine back in May. I realized I should probably be publishing fics I write instead of just letting them sit around, so here's this. It's a little (okay a lot) different from any RedxGreen fic out there, and that was intentional. I like to think that the brown-haired FireRed!Red and FRLG!Green (as in this fanfic) have a different dynamic than the original Red and Green because I'm odd.

Warning for Green being an insufferable asshole.

* * *

><p>Well, <em>shit.<em>

Green's ears rang, and the muffled noises of his polished shoes scuffling along grimy asphalt seemed far-off and underwater. Automobiles and engines roared in the distance, going any way but his. The bright lights he'd come to associate with Castelia were nowhere to be seen. The flickering of a single streetlamp illuminated his path down a narrow, grit-bathed alleyway, keeping him on the right path just until he saw the glow of the next light off in the distance. Yes. That was all he had to do. Just follow them back to a street, where there were people and buses and taxis... If he was lucky, he wouldn't need to take the subway.

He didn't need to make being lost in Castelia, drunk, without his glasses, without a Pokemon able to fight, and completely _fucked _any more complicated than it needed to be.

Shit, shit, _shit_. He'd fucked up. Bad.

He had his phone. He could call Red. Red didn't know Castelia at all, but he could still find his way here, right...? Red spoke English. He had a Psychic-type. He could...

Nah, he was being a stupid drunken idiot.

Haha, "stupid drunken idiot". He smiled to himself. It was funny because it was redundant. If he said he was stupid, there was no need for him to say he was an idiot. That was funny.

Fuck, everything was funny when he was drunk. Getting lost at 15 Rape Your Ass Alley, Castelia City was just _hilarious_.

He couldn't call Red like this. He'd told Red he wouldn't get drunk. He wouldn't get lost. He'd take his chances with murderers, thieves, and rapists. Anything was better than what Red would give him.

He paused, leaning against a nearby brick wall, trying to steady himself. The ringing in his ears stopped, and he took a deep breath, trying to imagine he wasn't smelling garbage and stale urine. Was there even a real tree planted within miles of where he was?

As was habit when he took a rest, he reached for his suit pocket, only to find he'd left his cigarette pack back at the pub. Well, wasn't that _fantastic! _...Whatever, he thought. Good thing. Didn't need to go gettin' addicted to those cancer sticks, anyways. The bitter taste of tobacco still lingered on his tongue from his last smoke.

When had that been? Hell, if he knew. The whole night was one big, goddamn, drunken blur. Was he even old enough to smoke in this stupid region? He was old enough to drink back in Kanto, but Unova law said he had to be twenty-one. Nothin' a determined eigthteen year old with what were probably the strongest Pokemon in the region couldn't fix, but _damn_, Unova and its crazy laws...

He groaned, heaving himself off the wall with his palm and trudged on. His feet were already beginning to feel heavy. How long had he been walking? Surely, he should have come to a normal street by now.

The sudden, hushed sound of voices made him stop. In his drunken state, it took a few moments for the hair on the back of his neck to prickle, and even more for him to think of what he should do.

Not too many good folks knew the back alleys of Castelia.

As he inched closer, swallowing, he was able to listen, making out syllables and tones. There was more than one voice. Two, maybe three. They sounded like men. Probably older than him.

Unease crept up his spine and tingled in his limbs. He ignored it, instead focusing on the light, warm, drunken buzz that assured him everything would be fine.

They weren't speaking English. They weren't speaking Japanese. He had no way of understanding them. Maybe it was Chinese? Yeah, sounded like Chinese.

He heard a shout, and he should have jumped, but instead he looked dumbly around. He heard another shout, and his head whipped in the direction of the speaker.

At least, he imagined his head whipped around to where the speaker was. In all actuality, it probably _flopped_in that direction, but he was blissfully too drunk to be able to recognize the reality of him not being the suave badass he imagined himself.

He couldn't see for shit, but he thought he saw an adjoining alleyway perpendicular to him, with a light at the end of it. He thanked the numerous mythical beings for that light, otherwise he never would have noticed the dark, blurry shapes he had to guess were two people.

When they shouted something in Probably Chinese, Green didn't think that he should keep going and ignore them. He thought he could handle anything, because he was a fucking stupid drunken redundant idiot. He shrugged.

"Do you speak English?" he heard one of them say in a heavy accent.

Green snorted, digging his hand into his pocket. "English and Japanese. What's it to ya?"

One of the blurry shapes moved toward the other blurry shape, and then the blurry shapes seemed to grow bigger. The hell? How were they getting bigger- Oh, they were coming closer. Duh.

And like _hell_ was he gonna step back.

"Are you lost?" The same man asked. He grew closer, but Green still couldn't see him for shit. Dark hair, kinda dark clothes, maybe?

"Again, what's it to ya?"

The other man said something in Probably Chinese, and then the first man stepped even closer. Now, Green _really _couldn't see him, because he was much too close, and Green was piss-drunk enough to be genuinely afraid that he was going to be kissed.

He heard a small laugh. "I can help you with that," Probably Chinese Guy #1 said, poorly mocking a threatening English-speaking tone. "I just want a tip."

"Don't be a waiter," Green retorted.

And then he realized that that was wait he wrote on receipts at restaurants when he received horrible service and was expected to give them a tip, and not at all a witty retort for a sketchy back alley Probably Chinese guy.

"Eh? Ah, just give me your Pokémon. Is good, okay? Pokémon and money."

Green tried to laugh, but his common sense was catching up with him and he just choked.

This wasn't Team Rocket from back when he was a kid. This was a guy who'd got him drunk, legally blind, and without usable Pokemon while he was lost in a foreign city, his only companion miles away, probably perfectly convinced that he was safe and happy with "friends", not grinding skanky girls on the dancefloor and getting buzzed enough not to care that he was cheating and letting some chick he didn't know suck him off.

He swallowed. This wasn't just bad. This was _karma_. He tried to steady his voice and sound both calm and authoritative. "I can't do that."

The thing about bein' drunk was, the more you tried to steady your speech, the worse you sounded.

The Probably Chinese guys just laughed. "Ahhh, you don't want to give us your Pokémon? We treat you good. Get you right out of here. Not hurt you."

"No." He wished he could panic. He knew he'd be useless at running when he was drunk, lost, and couldn't see. Shit shit shit shit _shit_. He didn't want to die alone in some filthy back alley with his face in an old urine stain and his Pokemon left to some _lowlife scum_...!

"No? Okay, we take Pokemon."

He raised his hand to reach for a Pokeball – wouldn't do him much good, since he didn't have any fighters, but he could _threaten_.

He didn't get far before he heard a sharp metal _shink_and felt an incredible stab of pain near his chest.

_"FUCK!" _He staggered backwards, holding his chest where he'd been wounded. He stood up straight, grasping the Poke Ball and holding it out, glaring down the man who'd stabbed him.

...Thing was, he could pretend to be a badass for all of eight seconds, but his body, being less badass than he imagined himself to be, had the brilliant idea of collapsing from the pain and severe damage that came along with _being fucking stabbed_.

"Ugh..." Fuck, it hurt too much... He couldn't fight. Not like this. He was an idiot and he was paying for it.

"You give Pokemon?"

He glared the bastard down, giving him a look that told the man every bit of anger, loathing, and absolute fury he had towards him. Or maybe he was telling all that to a large inanimate object. The two looked the same without his glasses. Either way, he glared them down, and did the only thing he could.

He handed over his Pokemon, phone, and wallet.

He couldn't send a tired Pokemon out to get stabbed, too. He couldn't risk them being hurt. Maybe when they were better, they'd turn on the thieves and get home to him. ...If we wasn't dead by then.

He heard them speak in Probably Chinese, and was vaguely aware of their voices fading. They were leaving. Good. Not even thanking him or acknowledging that he'd handed his friends over to them.

He didn't even care. He wasn't there anymore. He was somewhere else. He took himself to a place where none of this was happening, where he was still safe and happy. Maybe he was seeing Red. Grabbing him and kissing him like he'd never kissed him before.

Red would be confused, and ask him what the occasion was. He'd laugh it off. Tell him, "whatever". Talk to him about the evening he had – with friends, like he'd said, not getting his dick blown by girls who weren't Red. Maybe he'd get in the shower and invite Red in with him. And just... Hell, he'd just stand there enjoying the hot water and the naked Red in his arms.

_Shit_. Damn it. _Fuck_, he loved Red. Loved him way too damn much to do this to him. He should have called Red and had him come. Red would have been disappointed, and Green would have been disappointed and hating himself when he was sober enough to realize he'd hurt Red, but it wasn't _this_. It wasn't bleeding to death in Bumfuck, Nowhere while Red had no idea where he was or that he'd never see him again. It wasn't _this_ after he'd broken his word and _cheated on_ the only thing he'd ever done right. _Damn it!_

Was he crying? Eh, probably. When the hell had he last cried? When he was, what, fourteen? Yeah, fourteen... Another time he thought he was gonna die and never see Red again.

Damn that Red, turning him into some kind of sap...

Shit.

Just... _shit_.

Deciding he had to at least try not to die, he pulled his tie off and held it uselessly to his wound in an attempt to stanch the blood. When it bled through in seconds, he tried to slide his suit jacket off, and hissed as the injured flesh stretched with the movement. Fuck, moving _hurt._

He laughed again. Perhaps it was just the pain making him delirious, but it was funny. It was funny, because he was all dressed up. What the hell for? Because he felt like it; that was fucking _why_. He had a suit and a tie, like he was getting all dressed up for his prom or some shit. A suit and tie – all he was missing was the boutonniere.

Glancing down, he made out the blurry, incoherent shape of the rapidly growing bloodstain spilling over to the lapel of his jacket. ...Heh, he was probably just tricking himself into thinking he could see it. It was too dark, and he had no glasses. Like hell he could see.

He laughed to himself again – the red stain on his jacket was a fine boutonniere. Big, red, and in the right spot, like the fucking flowers people wore in their buttonholes for no reason he could possibly understand. Suit, tie, boutonniere – he was ready to hit the town, and yet he was crippled in a sketchy back alley, in pain and waiting to find out if he was even gonna live.

His head spun and white spots danced around his vision. Was he going to pass out...? How much blood HAD he lost...? He groaned, slipping blood-soaked fabric painfully off his shoulders.

There was something to be said about Castelia City's big name designers: They knew how to tailor a coat that couldn't be fucking torn. Or maybe he was too weak and drunk and stupid. He didn't know. So much for his first-aid expertise. He held the coat to his bleeding chest, applying as much pressure as he could and praying he wasn't gonna die.

It was telling that he was probably going to die, and yet couldn't stray his thoughts from just how badly he'd fucked up. Not in getting stabbed, not in drunkenly believing he could maneuver Castelia's back alleys – he'd betrayed Red.

Not for the first time, either. He remembered – hazy, blurred recollections of packed nightclubs that smelled like sweat and smoke; the dizzying taste of sake in the kiss of a girl _far too young _to be there, her fake ID that stated she was eighteen tucked into a too-tight top, the outline of the card visible through the fabric that strained across her small breasts, the smile in her eyes when she asked him he had a condom; the thrill of letting another man touch him and let him kiss skin that tasted like sweat and bitter aftershave; the enthralling, aggressive smacking together of skin, soft, wet sounds punctuated by breathy sighs and nails digging crescent-shaped marks in his back.

He remembered. Remembering burned a searing, physical ache down his throat like a shot of straight vodka, and the ache churned and tightened in his throat – a painful, well-deserved counterpart to the stinging, throbbing agony where his flesh had been torn.

The hell... It wasn't as if he didn't already have someone he could boink whenever the hell he wanted. ...Or get boinked by, as the case may be. Heh. And, shit... Red was attractive. He was even _cute_. ...Not that he'd ever tell anyone but him that. He didn't need to take his glasses off to have a few too many or _anything_ to start wanting _Red_.

Was it normal to fantasize about one's boyfriend in a mortal situation, or was he just that fucked in the head?

Furthermore, was it normal to ask oneself pressing, rhetorical questions?

He tried to move again, biting back the pain. Shit. It was no use. Even if he was able to walk, there's no way he'd get far enough to get help without collapsing.

With no watch on him, no phone, no Pokemon, he had no way of knowing how late it was. He'd been out late; he knew that much. How much longer until daylight? Surely, someone would come by once it was light out.

Closing his eyes, he adjusted the material of his jacket, making himself as comfortable as he could against brick and asphalt. He willed his mind to go somewhere else, where he wasn't stabbed, completely fucked over, and a terrible, manipulative bastard of a human being. It wasn't sleep as much as it was total shutdown, and, even scared and unsure if he'd ever wake up again, or if Red would ever find out what happened to him, Green found himself content enough in being able to go somewhere better.

–

Needless to say, when Green woke up in bed with a splitting headache, he was not at all surprised to be alive, as, in his sober mind, the reality of how difficult it is to kill a human being – particularly one related to Red – was far more plausible than the delusion that he was somehow going to die from a stab wound that seemed a hell of a lot worse when he was drunk.

Well, he was drunk, and he'd been cheating. The cheating made it more likely he was going to die, somehow.

His first thoughts were not "Holy crap, I'm actually alive!" or, "How did I get here?". They were, respectively, "Where the fuck was I last night?" and "Oh, I think I remember... Shit, how much does Red know?"

He looked around, his vision somehow just as terrible in broad, eye-burning daylight as it had been in a sketchy back alley.

Well, he was in a room, and it wasn't his hotel room. That was enough information for him. Not bothering to adjust his arms and legs – which seemed to have taken on some lead-like qualities, he closed his eyes and tried to think about something that didn't involve being wounded or having a splitting headache.

Unfortunately, being wounded and having a splitting headache just so happened to be the two most prominent things on his mind. The throbbing in his temples made him see white spots behind his eyelids, and he groaned, wishing he had an ice pack or _something_.

"You're awake."

He turned his head toward the speaker – an adorable, brown-eyed young man with wonderfully fluffy light brown hair.

He didn't open his eyes, so he didn't _see _that the speaker was adorable and had brown eyes and hair, but his imagination filled in for his lack of eyesight, because he'd know Red's voice anywhere.

"...Hey," he responded his voice raspy and on the verge of cracking. He swallowed, trying again. "Hey."

"...You're facing the wrong direction. I'm over here." Red's voice was flat; it was hard to tell if he was mad or not.

Of course, he was, and Green knew it, but he couldn't _tell_.

"Where's 'here'?"

He heard Red sigh. "...Nevermind. I'm about to touch you, okay?"

He didn't have time to nod before he felt a light touch on his hand, and his head immediately snapped over to Red's direction. Not daring to open his eyes, he imagined Red was either smiling or rolling his eyes. It depended on how furious he was.

He wanted to smile in sheer relief, but he wasn't feeling it. He cleared his throat again, wishing his body would catch up with his mind and just _wake up_. "How'd you find me?"

There was the slight rustle of clothing while Red moved in his seat. "Alakazam. When you didn't come back, I had him track you."

He made a small sound of affirmation. "I figured. Ow... Fuckin' head... How much did he tell you?"

There was a longer pause. "He told me where you were and got me there. _You_told me everything else. You remember?"

Shit. When had any of _that _happened...? "...No?"

A sigh. "Well, you'd been hurt, which was alarming enough, but you started crying and telling me all this incoherent stuff about you cheating on me, that you deserved this, and that you were going to die and I should just let you."

He _winced_. That... Red couldn't even make that up. _Had _he? Ugh...! That... That wasn't him... He repressed a shudder, glad no one besides Red had to see that.

"I had the paramedics with me."

...Well, shit.

"You weren't wounded very badly, but you were a little hysterical, dehydrated, sleep-deprived, and delirious. I had to have Alakazam get in your head and show me what you were talking about."

...Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_. It was bad enough it had happened at all – wasn't it enough for Red to know about it without _seeing _it?

"So, I had you hospitalized for the day to treat your wound and get you back on your feet."

The weight in the following silence was almost tangible.

Green felt an odd, unfamilar sinking feeling in his stomach, couple with the same tight, weighted ache in his throat. He swallowed again, but the ache stayed. "...So, I'm dumped?"

Another short silence.

"You've been waiting to ask that, haven't you?"

Green let out a small, frustrated sigh. "...Just tell me."

"...Are you going to lie to me again?"

"No, but..."

"Are you going to cheat on me again?"

"Of course not, I-"

"If, for some reason, I can't trust your word, will you at least be honest about where you're going, so when karma bites you in the ass, I can find you before you get yourself killed?"

"You think I haven't learned-"

A louder, angrier sigh. "You will never, ever lie to me, take me for granted, or B.S. me again?"

Green almost _whined_. "Babe, listen to me-"

"Green...!"

"Babe, look...!"

Red _growled_. "Don't you 'babe' me! Tell me you're not gonna lie to me again! This isn't even about me and how you treat _me_. If you care about me that much, then you'll care about yourself enough to know it'd _destroy _me to lose you, understand?"

This time, Green winced, bit by the harsh, blunt impact of Red's words. Well, what could he say to that? "...Red, I'm sorry."

Another growl. "You bet your fine ass, you're sorry! You can't be sorry enough, but so help me, I will _make _you sorry enough!"

"I'm never going to lie to you again. Ever."

"Damn right. And this isn't a 'you're pissed at me, so I'm going to say whatever to get myself out of hot water' promise, right?"

"Right."

He felt Red's hand squeeze his, and, shit, he must have still been out of it, because he felt like crying all over again out of sheer relief.

"M'sorry, Red... I don't know what I said last night, or what Alakazam showed you to make you believe me when I say that, but... I'm glad you know I'm bein' honest when I say that."

Red's thumb ran idly over the back of his hand, and Green heard him make a small sound in affirmation. "Yeah... I know you regret it. Trust me; I know. Dumbass."

Well, then. "...You don't have to call me names."

"I don't think you're in a position to be telling me what to do, buddy."

He hated it when Red was right. "Tch. Yeah, well... Whatever. ...Hey, Red?"

"Eh?"

He could picture the way Red would lean in and tilt his head, but it wasn't enough to picture it. He opened his eyes, squinting, and the second the light hit his eyes he felt like his head was split open, but he made out the shape of Red's head and shoulders.

"Y'know... I love you, okay?"

It was kinda odd for him to say without bein' prompted by Red, but, shit... Well, if he wanted to tell Red, the hell shouldn't he?

He closed his eyes, but it was funny to picture the (adorable) stunned expression Red would have, with one eyebrow raised and the rest of his face blank before he'd remember himself and smile.

"I love you, too. ...Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Mm-hmm..." He felt a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"I'm still going to give you hell," Red warned, and while his voice had lost its edge, Green knew it was far from an empty threat.

"Mm, I know..."

He felt Red's breath tickle his cheek for just a moment before warm lips met his forehead. Red held himself there for just a moment before pulling back, then briefly ruffling Green's hair with his hand. "We'll make it work, okay? We... We've got to work together. However long it takes me to trust you again, it's worth it. You're worth waiting for. You got that, you dumbass?"

Green groaned, feeling his headache once again flare up and make him see spots. "What did I just say about the name-calling?"

"What did _I_just say about you being in no-"

"Yeah, yeah! How long 'til I'm out of here?"

Red huffed. "I was going to see about having you discharged in a few hours, but if you're gonna be this way, I can _put_you here for a few more days...!"

"...Yeah, and what about my Pokemon?" He didn't really need to ask, but it helped to be sure.

"I've got them. Arcanine was out of his Ball earlier. They're all fine. Just kind of pissed."

This time, he couldn't help a smile. "...Good. Guess I'm lucky."

"If you were lucky, none of this would have happened!"

His smile faded, and he gave a small "hmph". "That wasn't bad luck, that was karma!"

He heard Red shake his head. "I'm leaving now. I'm going to act as though this is in your best interest because I'm seeing about getting you more pain meds, but it's actually in your best interest because I will be resisting the urge to kill you by removing myself from the temptation."

His eyelids fluttered open for a moment when Red kissed his forehead again, and he wanted to smile but Red was kissing him and that was a little better.

"Your breath reeks," Red whispered, kissing him again before standing up to leave.

Green sighed to himself after hearing the door click shut. In the delirium of relief, it was easy to pretend things were gonna be okay because everyone was alive and well, but he'd hurt Red, put his Pokemon in danger, and had just plain _fucked up_. Bad. No matter how he buttered it up, his relationship with Red – and with his Pokemon – was at risk, and they both knew it. But... Well...

He'd make it work. He owed Red that much.

He let himself drift off again, this time more secure in that everything was gonna be a little easier when he came to.


End file.
